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Healed
I still can't remember how I got back to the station or where Carroll came from. I know I was in some medical facility, now I'm here. I feel better and I cannot explain it. Even my hair has grown back. All thats left is a scar over my left eye. I have a feeling Carroll is somehow involved. I'm grateful but how can a corgi heal a full grown man? I guess I'll never know. I shouldn't question it.
Healed
I still can't remember how I got back to the station or where Carroll came from. I know I was in some medical facility, now I'm here. I feel better and I cannot explain it. Even my hair has grown back. All thats left is a scar over my left eye. I have a feeling Carroll is somehow involved. I'm grateful but how can a corgi heal a full grown man? I guess I'll never know. I shouldn't question it.
Generator
I manage to get the back up generator going. My office equipment seems to be mostly working. Can you hear me? Just switched back to the main line. This place feels like home, despite the chaos. I will miss it when I am gone. Don't worry, I'll clean it up. Head still hurts but can't complain. Its going to be a long night. At least I have coffee and a bottle of whiskey I stashed a while back.
Barricaded
I managed to get in through the backdoor with Carroll safely with me. I smell smoke. Can't tell where its coming from. Power is out in the building. I move an old cabinet to barricade the door I came in and turn on my flashlight. The inside is hazy. I head for my office. Luckily the smoke seems to be coming from the outside through a broken window. There is still my blood on the office floor
Return
I just got back to the station and there is rioting in the streets all around. The station is surrounded by armed people and some with torches. I'll try a back street to get in. Luckily, with my tattered old duster and crowbar in hand, I fit right in. No one seems to care about the headset or antenna coming out of my backpack. Fighting breaks out all around me as I head for the backdoor.
Lionheart, Signing On
The nightwatchman Cordarius, dragged their bodies into the alley after we searched them; information on the G-men’s IDs faded immediately. There was a lot to clean up, we called an ambulance for Merle. I’ve been far too out of the loop on this one, I have research to do on "Apokteinō" and the visions I’ve been seeing. I’ll take over in the studio, hold down the fort; this is Lionheart, signing on.
Enter, Endcast
Something’s wrong, no signs of forced entry but was there a struggle in the empty security office? Monitors offline. We found Merle unconscious in the sound booth, under a hot mic; I turned to discover the two black suited G-men with a gun on Tommy, disarmed again. Longstory short, they blabbed details about Gomorrah on air, calling me a "loose end" before Cordarius came in from the can, blasting.
Hello Birmingham, I’m Baaack!
Small structural fires and running gun battles crisscross the streets, in some cases cops vs. cops; Tommy pointed out a group of armed patriots holding a mob of liberal radicals at gun point, on their knees, dragging them by their blue hair. Endcast BHAM is intact, perimeter defenses on; Merle, the station manager, must be inside—I punch the gatecode and return the kid his pistol. I’m back, yall.
On Approach to Birmingham
As we crossed Shelby County onto Highway 280 northbound, we passed barricade after barricade; citizens on patrol, American flags and long guns everywhere, police directing traffic. There is comparably far less smoke from the city ahead, than other metro areas I’ve passed since Louisiana. On Red Mountain Expressway, Magic City comes into view—clearly the action is still hot, in town. Hammer down.
Tommy’s Report (02)
Tommy’s uncle was a founding member of their local militia, which was organized in response to the January 6th scandal, so horribly misrepresented in the media. He has been raised on bunkers and bug out bags; perhaps still a little naive to be divulging so much, but I let him speak—he lost people back there, today. Scared to return to the compound, he is riding along to Endcast Birmingham studios.
Tommy’s Report (01)
The 19 year old militiaman, Tommy, has filled me in—during wall to wall coverage of Hurricane Dolly, "the left" made their move. People in high places across every sector, private and federal, began issuing unconstitutional commands of every kind; seemingly random and treasonous, but somehow connected. "Ordo ab Chao" he calls it, speculating the Executive Branch is dead or in hiding; an uprising…
More Flashbacks
FLASH! Suddenly, I recall waking alone and restrained, to the sight of medical implements and power tools before me on shelves; FLASH! I’m squirming my wrists free from leather buckle cuffs attached to the chair; FLASH! the sight of the jarhead opening the door, being met with something from the shelf I swung at his face; FLASH! running through a courtyard, tackled, bagged and dragged into a van…
Hitchhiker
I was still in the truck when shooting resumed, so I floored it, slinging mud and wrecking several robots as I passed but also picked up one of the younger militia who grabbed hold of my sideview mirror, stepping up on the running board with a pistol in my face, yelling "Halt! Stop!" I snatched away the .45 as he climbed into the bouncing cab. Our eyes locked as soldiers perished in the rearview…
Convoy Ambush
I’m being watched closely, but was conscripted to drive one of six old surplus transport trucks, moving the soldiers. I was boxed in and we were headed to a backwoods rendezvous when suddenly a swarm of drones was upon us as we emerged in a clearing. We spread out and the men fired back, but we lost one truck. Attending the wounded after, a line of AI robodogs closed in from across the meadow.
Local Militia
This is Lionheart, out in the sticks. Hours ago, I found myself at once surrounded by camouflaged militia with some AWOL Army and National Guardsmen. It was quickly discerned I knew nothing and was no threat to their nearby compound, where I’ve been brought and folded into their outfit. Their claim is Civil War—domestic protection oaths are broken by one side, no one is sure who’s in command in DC
Carroll
I decided to name the mysterious corgi Carroll. She seems to respond to the name. Now we need to find Vivian. I've heard her voice on the radio but something is wrong. Carroll seems to know where to go, so I'm going to follow her. The city is on fire and there is chaos in the streets. I somehow feel safe with the dog. For good measure I pick up a discarded crowbar off the street, just in case.
I don't know where to go and oddly, I'm not scared.
It's 1am and the air feels-wrong. I'm on East Hill in Kent, I jacked a bike in Auburn. It's eerily calm tonight, there were mass "evacuations" of which I chose not to participate. I really don't know what this Gamora thing is going to do, but I need to find accommodations until I know what my next step is. I'll report again soon, I need to ger off these streets.
Still Here
PHX-09 is silent. The Choir is awake, frightened but free for now. Before disabling the transmitter, I sent Gamora its success code. They still believe Conductor Nine is operational. Other nodes are answering, 11 in the Southwest. Control, leave my channel open. I know their phrases, procedures, and the sound a stolen voice makes. This is Vivian Knightly. Apparently, it really is my first day.
Use Your Voice
Gamora needs rhythm. Repetition. One voice leading and the rest obeying. So I told the Choir to speak, not repeat. Names, birthdays, first memories, anything that belonged only to them. The voice beneath mine ordered silence but they grew louder. The transmitter is losing synchronization, and I remember the shutdown code. If I can hold onto one thought long enough, this ends here: my voice is mine
Activation Cascade
More is coming back. At 3:17, PHX-09 will use these voices to issue conflicting emergency orders: evacuate, shelter, close the grid, divert the hospitals. Each will sound official. Together, they will empty parts of Phoenix and trap the rest on the roads. Gamora calls the collapse “proof of failed government.” Its backers arrive to restore order. Control, this is not an experiment. It is a coup.